The Cake is Divine
by InvisibleSpork
Summary: Peter and Neal decide to use the bakery Neal bought. Much light hearted banter ensues, as well as a bit of Peter/Neal. "Um, Peter?" Yes, Neal?" "I think your pie is bleeding."


Written for the collarkink meme on Livejournal.

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"Um, Peter?"

"Yes, Neal?"

"I think your pie is bleeding."

Peter and Neal stared down at the oozing, somewhat charred pastry in front of them. Peter had accidentally put his thumb through the top layer of the crust as he sealed the pie. He had tried to hide the hole by gently pushing it back together before placing it in the oven. He had failed. The cherry filling had bubbled up through the opening. It looked distressingly like a bloody, gaping wound.

"You know, I let you bake the pie because I thought it was impossible to screw it up."

"Shut up, Neal."

"I mean, the crust was pre-made. All you had to do was pour the cans of filling in, cover it up, and pop it in the oven."

"Enough, Caffrey."

"I'm sorry, but I'm just – this is _really_ impressive. I mean, Elizabeth said you were a disaster in the kitchen, but I really –"

"Okay, so what else are we making before you let me go home?" Peter cut him off.

"_We?_ There is no 'we' here anymore. You are going nowhere _near_ my double German chocolate cake. My faith in you has been destroyed by what you did to that poor, defenseless pie."

"I didn't do anything to the pie!"

"You reached in and let its innards fall out!"

"Pies don't have innards."

"_In_-nards are _in_-side the pie. Therefore –"

"Look, all that's left is pouring the batter."

"Yeah, and all that was left was pouring the filling. No." Neal said, pointing a warning finger in Peter's face.

"Never mind!" Peter let out a half-serious growl of frustration. "Just bake so we can go home and spend our day off in peace."

"I'm still mourning the pie. It might've had little pie babies had it not died so tragically. It should be properly grieved."

"Oh, for God's sake," Peter said as he seized the waiting cake batter.

"What are you doing? That cake's too young to die!" Neal exclaimed melodramatically, lunging to save the batter from Peter's clutches.

"Stop that! I'm just going to pour it."

"No! It's June's recipe, and it's divine. You'll ruin it."

"I'm not incompetent, just let go!"

Neal's hands slipped. Peter, not expecting Neal's sudden release of the bowl, was treated to an unexpected chocolate shower.

After a shocked pause Peter quickly pointed a defensive finger at Neal. "I'm not listening to a week's whining about this. You ruined it this time, not me."

Neal looked consideringly at Peter. "I'm not so sure it's been ruined." With a smirk he took Peter by the hand. Peter's breathing grew heavier as Neal licked the batter off each finger with a torturously slow tongue.

"It still good?" Peter asked, his voice low.

"It bears further testing." Neal shot him a teasing look before he leaned in to lick the chocolate off Peter's neck.

Peter groaned. "You'll ruin your appetite." He could feel Neal grin into his neck.

"Just a little bit more?" Neal cajoled as he swiped his finger down Peter's cheek and held it to Peter's lips, who dutifully tried the batter. Neal closed his eyes with a short gasp when Peter took his entire finger into his mouth and sucked the remaining batter off. He took his time, knowing that Neal's elegant artist's fingers were especially sensitive. He enjoyed the fact that he could turn the ever-collected Neal Caffrey into the moaning, breathless man panting into his neck.

"You know, you were right." Peter said with a small smile.

"Hmm?" Neal asked, eyes still closed.

"This cake is divine."

Peter pulled Neal closer for a passionate kiss, roughly claiming the younger man's mouth. He could taste the chocolate combined with Neal's own familiar flavor on his tongue. Neal groaned, unsuccessfully trying to pull Peter as close as possible while still leaving enough room for his hands to unbutton Peter's shirt.

Peter much more quickly divested Neal of his blue turtleneck and slacks. Neal didn't even complain that his clothes lay covered in flour and chocolate batter on the bakery floor. He simply gave a frustrated, "You. Less clothes. Now." He would catch hell for ruining that outfit later, but Peter couldn't help but feeling a little bit smug hearing the desperation in Neal's voice.

They gasped and groaned and moved together, Neal's legs wrapped around Peter's hips, Peter's hand gently cushioning Neal's head. It was sweet and sweaty and certainly not sanitary. As they lay panting, clothes strewn on the floor of the bakery, Neal looked at Peter. "We're going to have to make another batch now. I hope you're happy."

"Yes I am." He grinned in the afterglow.

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If Elizabeth noticed the flour on the back of her husband's trousers or the icing in Neal's hair when her boys delivered her home-made birthday cake later that evening (baked with love, they had told her with a secret grin), she didn't say anything. She simply extracted an invitation to join them the next time. And the cake really was divine.


End file.
